


Confidence

by puptart



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: Blakey's got a biiiiig ol' crush, M/M, No Spoilers, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:33:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22232584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puptart/pseuds/puptart
Summary: Blake never thought he'd make it through runners' training. Simon helps him through his first mission out.
Relationships: Simon Lauchlan/Runner Five
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Confidence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [badvibesgenerator](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=badvibesgenerator).



> This fic features Blake Masters, my good buddy Kane's Runner Five OC. He's Runner Twenty-Two in the crossover AU he, Emma, and I have made together.

The road is filled with fog. Fog and who knows what else. No matter how Blake squints he can’t make out a thing.

_“Sorry, you two,”_ Sam says over their comms. Blake’s crackles terribly every time Sam speaks, even shocks him a little if he talks too loud. That’s probably why Ms. De Luca hasn’t found time to fix it yet.

“Ah, no worries Sammy,” Simon says from beside Blake. The car they’re cowering behind is barely big enough for the two of them, but it’s better than nothing. Out on this stretch of road, with the treeline easily a kilometer away, they’ll take what they can get for cover. 

_‘I shouldn’t even be here,’_ Blake thinks to himself, drumming his fingers nervously against his leg. It’s his first mission outside of Abel, and he has no idea how he even got here. Even though he’d managed to pass runners’ training, he didn’t think they wouldn’t _want_ him as a runner once Janine figured out he’s not the right Blake Masters. Somehow- _SOMEHOW_ he keeps tripping and stumbling his way into these crazy situations he shouldn’t be in. He’d wanted to just… Tend sheep? Work in the kitchens? Anything that doesn’t involve dancing around zombies all day and dodging bullets!

“-right, Twenty Two?” 

Blake jolts, turning to look at Simon with wide eyes, his stomach trembling. The moment he locks eyes with the other runner, he jerks his head away, pretending there’s something to stare at out in the fog. 

“What?” Blake asks, voice so small he may as well be whispering. His cheeks flame with embarrassment. Why can’t he just _talk?_ Sure, it’s Simon, the most gorgeous man Blake’s ever seen in his life, but he should still be able to hold a conversation with him without turning into a puddle of nerves and sweat. 

Simon chuckles. “I said, we can keep the mission going, eh? You and me, not afraid of a little fog.”

_“It’s not the fog I’m concerned about, Three,”_ Sam says dryly. _“It’s more what’s in the fog and has teeth and drool and rotting flesh.”_

Blake presses his lips into a tight line at the reminder. Simon reaches over and claps a hand against his back, nearly knocking the wind out of him. 

“We can’t see much, but hey, we can hear just fin,” Simon says brightly, trying to catch Blake’s attention, but he just pretends not to notice. 

Over the headset, Sam hems and haws about it. Blake silently encourages him to stick to his guns and cancel the mission. 

_“Well, I suppose so. I’ll keep an eye on the scanner, just in case it manages to pick anything up,”_ Sam says, to Blake’s utter devastation. They’re really going to just run around in this cloud!

Simon gives a thrilled whoop, hopping upright and stretching out to his full height, which practically towers over Blake.

_“Shh! Three! Don’t draw attention to yourselves.”_

“Right, right. Sorry Blakey,” Simon says, tossing a wink Blake’s way. Blake’s heart thunders and he stays frozen behind the car for a moment. Simon gives everyone little nicknames, so ‘Blakey’ shouldn’t mean anything, but the butterflies in Blake’s stomach don’t seem to know it. 

“S’okay,” he mumbles. Simon grins and the butterflies go crazy. 

“Right-o, let’s get going then.” Simon gestures grandly towards the grey void ahead of them. It’s the last thing Blake wants to do, but he stands up anyways, following Simon’s lead into the haze.

This stretch of road is long and winds around several hills, which Blake steadfastly tries to not compare to any of the horror movies he’s watched. All is quiet beyond their footfalls and breathing, no constant chattering filling the air. It seems Simon really meant it when he said they’d be relying on their ears. 

It doesn’t take long before Blake is out of breath, even though it’s clear Simon is just getting started. Some runners’ training! He can barely keep up!

The moment he starts to lag, Simon slows down to match him wordlessly. When Blake has to stop and catch his breath, Simon hooks a hand around his bicep and tugs.

“No, no, keep walking. Stopping dead isn’t going to do you any good,” Simon tells him. Blake nods, and keeps walking through the ache in his calves and the burn in his lungs. He pretends to be too out of breath to speak, all his focus zeroing in on the pressure from Simon’s grip. The sensation lingers, even after Simon lets go. He forgets to be scared of the zombies for several moments, at least until they find the truck.

_“That’s the one,”_ Sam says. _“Lots of batteries. Just get what you can. Twelve and Eight will come for the rest tomorrow.”_

“Roger that, Sammy,” Simon says, trotting up to the backdoor, chained shut. He pulls a key from his pocket, and slips it into the padlock. It sticks, and he swears under his breath as he jiggles it. 

Something scrapes nearby, and Blake freezes up. He wets his lips, waiting, but nothing else follows. Must’ve just been from Simon’s struggling.

The lock clicks, and Simon lets out a victorious, “Aha!” Grinning, Simon lifts the door up with a teeth rattling clatter. A low groan— which could be just the door— reaches Blake’s ear. 

“C’mon then Blakey,” Simon says, hopping into the back of the truck. He holds a hand out, wiggling his fingers. 

“Did you hear…?” Blake glances around the side of the truck, but all he sees is fog. 

Not waiting any longer, Simon grabs Blake’s hand, hauling him up and off his feet. Blake yelps scrambling to step up, and steadies himself against Simon.

“That’s right, you can lean on me,” Simon says with a heavy lidded smolder. Blake shoves himself backwards, pressing against the chilly metal wall.

_“Simon, c’mon.”_

“Oh if you’re going to chide me for flirting, I think you need to take a _long_ look in the mi-“

The unmistakable sound of a zombie’s moan silences them both.

“Ready to keep score, Sammy?” Simon asks in a whisper, pulling a baseball bat from his backpack.

“Is this the time?” Blake asks, hands shaking as he reaches for the hockey stick he’d been given. Simon winks.

“Don’t worry, he’s keeping score for you too.”

_“Dunno what you mean, mate,”_ Sam lies smoothly. _“And uh, yeah. Be careful?”_

“Oh god,” Blake says. Simon looks at him again, softer than before. He grips Blake’s shoulder and gives him a friendly shake.

“Don’t worry, ol’ Simon’s got your back. Just be confident, yeah?”

Blake almost laughs, but it sticks in his throat. Even so, he adjusts his grip the way Eight had showed him to, and nods. He’s not confident, but he can at least try his best to not die.

“Attaboy. Here we go.”

Out in the mist, the murky silhouette of a shambling figure starts to become visible in the fog. Simon jumps down, striding towards it was a swagger.

Blake jumps down after him, more cautious, but ready all the same.


End file.
